The Love of His Life
by Mikki13
Summary: Five women Chuck slept with, and one he truly loved. With strong Charah undertones, this story not only includes Sarah, but also delves into Chuck's relationships with an OC, Jill and a very brief scene with Hannah. Written for Wepdiggy's birthday.


**A/N: **So it's always been my motto that every girl deserves a healthy dose of smut for her birthday. But now I'm here to tell you all that every boy deserves an adrenaline rush of smut as well. So Happy Birthday, Wepdiggy. You've become one of my closest friends online, and one of my all time favorite writing partners. And because I know that you love Jill, I decided to try my hand at her. I only hope I've done her justice, and that you enjoy your present. Have a great day, buddy. I look forward to many chats in the future.

**Disclaimer: **Do not read this in public. Do not read this with family or friends. While it isn't as racy as some of my smut, I certainly don't want you to be known as an exhibitionist. That might lead to jail time, and then where would we be?

~*~

His first time was in the backseat of his dad's old Mustang on prom night. His date's name was Donna, and she had curly brown hair and smelled kinda like vanilla. Yeah, that was probably a little cliché. But then, having sex in the backseat on prom night was just as much so. And really, he wasn't complaining. After dating Donna for three months, he was more than ready to have sex. Actually, he'd been more than ready to have sex for the past six years. Ever since his dad had caught him with Morgan's issue of Playboy. The one Morgan had swiped from his mom's boyfriend because, you know, his little buddy didn't really have a whole lot of other chances to see naked girls.

Chuck had given him a long lecture on treating women like sex objects (even at eleven, he was sorta sensitive toward that stuff), but he couldn't resist the lure of the gorgeous brunette depicted on page thirteen. And when Morgan had stuffed the magazine into his backpack and insisted that he take it home, he hadn't put up much of a fight. And then when the magazine ended up underneath his pillow, and other stuff started to happen . . . fun, exciting stuff . . . stuff that made him feel _really _good . . . well, his dad found out the hard way that his son had started looking at Playboy. Blushing to the roots of his hair and pushing his hands into his pockets, the elder Bartowski had stammered out his own "objectifying women" speech. Afterwards, Chuck had been so ashamed that he'd never looked at another Playboy. Even though he had really, really wanted to.

But that was all beside the point. The point was that he'd found himself in the backseat of a car with his beautiful date. Half-dressed in a second hand tuxedo, he stared in wide-eyed wonder as she slowly slipped her light purple prom dress from her shoulders. Accentuated by the moonlight pouring in through the windshield, her creamy skin looked almost like porcelain. Chuck's breath caught in his throat as she pulled her dress lower . . . lower . . . lower until it pooled around her waist. And even though he wanted her to feel like a princess, and even though he'd always kinda prided himself on treating girls the right way, he couldn't help but follow the trajectory of the silky material. He couldn't help but swallow hard when his gaze landed on her chest. He'd never actually seen boobs before. Even ones covered by a satiny pink bra. He almost thanked the nearest available deity, but then he realized just how self-conscious his date appeared. Blinking rapidly, he tore his gaze from her chest and refocused on her deep blue eyes.

"You're beautiful," he choked, clearing his throat as a faint pink blush crept up her cheeks.

"Do you . . . do you want to touch them?" she asked, dropping her own gaze to the seat of his dad's car.

"Really?" he exclaimed, then cleared his throat again when he realized how eager he sounded. "I mean, if . . . if you want me to."

She licked her lips, causing a weird fluttering sensation to form within his stomach. God, he wanted to kiss her now. And when she slowly nodded her head, the fluttering increased to a frantic tempo and his eyes grew wider still. "If you want to," she murmured, the pink glow of her cheeks becoming slightly red.

"Okay," Chuck croaked. His palms grew sweaty as he raised his shaky hands to the front of her bra, cupping her through her satiny material. Moving his thumbs in clumsy concentric circles, he marveled at the feel of her underneath his touch. Squishy yet firm, smooth yet warm, it was the most amazing thing he'd ever experienced. He, Charles Irving Bartowski, was touching real, live boobs. Not only that, he was touching the real, live boobs of a girl he really cared about. A gentle smile spread across his face as he leaned forward to capture her lips in an affectionate, awkward kiss.

"I want you to be my first," she whispered when they broke apart, and Chuck had leaned his forehead against her own.

"Your first what?" he asked.

A humorous glint entered her gaze, and her face broke into a lazy, bashful grin. "My _first_," she said, the word much more meaningful this time.

"Ohhhh," Chuck breathed, his eyes wider than they'd ever been in his life. Her _first_. _His _first. Could this night get any better? He really liked this girl. He liked her more than he'd ever liked anyone. And the thought of being with her now, of sharing this experience with her . . . the type of experience he knew he could never get back . . . was amazing. He didn't think he'd ever wanted anything so much. But even as the fluttering feeling in his stomach increased to an all time high, he knew that he had to make certain. He knew that he had to confirm that she wanted this, too.

"Are you . . . . are you sure?" he stuttered, leaning back to study her carefully as he brushed a tender hand against her cheek.

She paused for a fraction of a second, and his heart skipped a disappointed beat in his chest. So when she finally leaned into his touch and nodded with conviction, he couldn't stop his wide, pleased grin. "I'm sure," she confirmed. "I want this, Chuck. I . . . I want you."

He didn't need to be told twice. Threading his fingers through her hair, he pressed his lips heatedly to her own even as she began to undo the buttons on his dress shirt. And as they gradually, awkwardly, desperately undressed, coming together in a tangle of limbs; and as he slipped inside of her, a frantic ache reverberating through his chest when she gasped in surprised pain; and as he kissed her deeply, trying to alleviate the discomfort he'd clearly caused her; and as she gradually relaxed around him and he began thrusting carefully yet feverishly into her slick folds; and even as he came too soon and she muttered words of regret and condolence, he knew this was the best night of his life. He knew this was the best night of his existence. He knew that she was his everything.

But when she developed a crush on the high school quarterback a month later, and when she tearfully dumped him in front of her house on a windy Sunday afternoon, he began to realize that maybe he had made a mistake. Maybe she hadn't been the right one. Maybe she had just been a girl who had looked pretty in a purple prom dress and played a mean game of play station. Maybe the love of his life was still waiting for him, and he just hadn't found her yet. But that's another story for another time.

~*~

He had found her. The girl of his dreams. The love of his life. He was almost certain of it. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever known, and she made his heart race and his stomach flip. Sliding his hand into her own, he gazed down at her with loving eyes and was immediately rewarded with a tender smile.

"What are we doing here, Chuck?" Jill asked, nudging him slyly in the side as they traversed the short hallway of a picturesque Palo Alto hotel.

"What?" Chuck replied, a row of perfect white teeth peeking out from beneath his own wide smile. "I'm not allowed to surprise my girlfriend every once in awhile?"

"Mmm," she murmured, leaning against his arm. "It depends on what the surprise is."

"I promise it's a good surprise," Chuck vowed, even as his smile turned slightly shaky. "You know, kind of like when Lois Lane discovered Superman was really Clark Kent, and not at all like when Luke Skywalker discovered that Darth Vader was really his father." He paused, his face scrunching sheepishly as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "So, yeah. That would equate to a good surprise," he finished lamely, shrugging even as he wished the floor would swallow him whole. God, he was such a geek.

"God, you're such a geek," Jill chided, giggling as she shook her head. Even so, she continued to walk down the hallway, she continued to hold his hand, and she continued to regard him with an affectionate gleam in her coffee brown eyes. And when they finally stopped outside the hotel room door, when he finally extracted the key card from his pocket and slipped it inside the lock, he heard her sharp intake of breath as their room came into view.

"Chuck," she exclaimed, gazing at him in mild wonder. "Did you do all this?"

"Do you like it?" he whispered, biting his lower lip. He knew he was a bit of a geek, and that he wasn't always great with girls, but he wanted this to be special. He wanted this to be perfect. He wanted her to understand that the glittering candles that bedecked the dresser and the crushed petals that adorned the bed were for her. It was all for her. _Everything_ was for her.

"I love it," she murmured, pushing against his lanky frame and leaning forward for a long, lingering kiss. "It's amazing," she breathed, and he felt a rush of relief as she kissed him again.

"I just thought it would be sorta nice," he replied, wrapping protective arms around her slender waist. "You know, since it's our first time and all."

"Our first time?" Jill queried, raising her perfectly shaped brows.

"Well, yeah," he hastened to explain, suddenly wondering if maybe he'd had it all wrong. Was he pressuring her when all he'd wanted to do was make her happy? "I mean, I kind of thought that we were ready. But it's okay," he rushed to add. "It's okay if we're not. I mean, I really don't need to . . . you know." God, he was failing miserably. A hot blush crept up his face as he tried to dig himself out of the hole he was currently creating. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't need to have sex. _We _– We don't need to have sex. I just . . . I think I love you, Jill," he said, his gaze warm and pleading. "And I just want it to be perfect."

"You _think_ you love me?" Jill intoned, standing on her tiptoes so that they were on the same eye level.

_Damn it._ He knew he should have been stronger with his words. "Well, I meant that –"

"Chuck?" Jill placed her finger to his lips. "You talk way too much." And as his lips parted in surprise, she replaced her finger with her mouth, slamming the door shut behind her as she began backing him toward the bed. He was only too happy to give her the lead.

He wasn't sure how long it took. He wasn't sure how much time he spent pulling off her clothes, or relishing the feel of her underneath his touch, or learning what it took to make her feel good. He only knew that he savored the sound of her moan when he sucked her sensitive nipple into his mouth. He only knew that he loved the feel of her legs as she wrapped them around his thighs and urged him to begin. He only knew that he couldn't forget the way it felt when he pushed himself inside of her, and her velvety walls closed around his throbbing cock.

Their thrusts were frantic, their tempo rough and uneven. He came way too early, and had to plunge his fingers into her slick center, using his thumb to massage her clit. His movements were clumsy and irregular, and it took him awhile to bring her to completion. But when he finally did, when she finally moaned his name and hugged him close to her curvaceous body, he felt an overwhelming rush of affectionate power. He felt an overwhelming rush of desire to keep her close, to protect her from the world, to make her his own. He felt an overwhelming rush of longing to love her as much as he possibly could.

So when she broke his heart two years later, when she started dating his ex-best friend and refused to return his calls, when she fell out of his life as quickly as she had entered it, he spent the next six years wanting her back. He spent the next six years yearning to find her and remind her how amazing they could be together. He spent the next six years pretending like he had already found the love of his life, and wishing desperately that she would return to his side. He spent the next six years wanting her back.

He never realized that when she did return, things would be different.

~*~

She came back to him six years later. It wasn't in the way he'd expected, or even in the amount of time he'd hoped. It didn't occur amidst tearful apologies or heartfelt declarations of love. It didn't even happen when he felt ready for the encounter. There were awkward moments and uncomfortable stutters. There were relationships that had come in between, and even one that existed during. He tried to tell himself that he wanted this, that he wanted her. He tried to tell himself that he was happy he had her back, and that he'd yearned for her all along. He tried to tell himself that he didn't care about the woman in the background; the woman who held his thoughts, who held his mind, who held his heart. He tried to tell himself that Jill Roberts was the love of his life.

He was wrong on all accounts.

The sex was different than before. Even though he didn't know it at the time, the woman was different, too. She was secretive even when appearing open; aloof even when appearing loving; a stranger even when appearing to be a friend. If he had realized this in the beginning, they might not have gotten as far as they did. As it was, he fell into her clutches as easily as she had planned.

They didn't even make it to the bed the first time around. Instead, she tackled him the moment they entered the hotel room. Slamming the door shut at the same time she jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist, it was all he could do to push her against the wall for support. It was all he could do to remember to breathe as she nipped frantically at his neck, and ran her tongue along the smooth expanse of his collarbone. It was all he could do to keep his hands from shaking as she slipped from his arms and shed her clothing, then started in on his own. But even as she pounced back into his arms, even as he pushed her back against the cool white plaster, even as he drove himself into her satiny center, plunging into her creamy depths, he couldn't keep himself from moaning or crying out her name.

The problem was, as he continued to pump erratically into her sopping folds, as he continued to kiss her deeply and bring her closer to the point of ecstatic release, a growing sense of unease built within his gut. A growing sense of regret coiled through his veins. Because even as he continued to pretend like everything was perfect, he was beginning to understand that nothing was as it should be. And when he finally learned who she was, when he finally discovered that she had been lying all along, when he finally understood that he loved someone else, the staggering truth became clear.

He hadn't spent six years waiting for Jill Roberts. He hadn't kept his heart available even when he'd always believed she'd come back. Instead, he had gotten over her before he'd even realized he'd moved on.

~*~

He'd moved on. He'd gotten over her. He was ready to be a spy, he was ready to protect the world. He was ready to love someone new. Sarah was a thing of the past, and Hannah was his future.

Or so he tried to believe.

They entered his room half-clad in their work clothes, frantically exploring every facet of one another's heated bodies. She giggled as he scooped her up and carried her to his bed, her mouth detaching from his own for the slightest of seconds. And when he joined her on the mattress and slipped his t-shirt from his shoulders, then wiggled out of his slacks, he couldn't help the relieved, goofy grin which brightened his face. He tried not to notice that the relief was tainted by an undeniable sense of regret. He tried not to notice that the regret was tinged by a clear shock of longing. He tried not to notice that the regretful longing was joined by the distinct image of a beautiful blonde spy, skirting through his mind and causing him to fumble as he finished unbuttoning his new girlfriend's blouse.

His new girlfriend.

He had a new girlfriend. After everything that had happened, after all the heartache he'd experienced over the past several months, he was finally moving on. He was finally trying again. He was finally dating someone new.

So why was it that he couldn't get someone else out of his head?

Gritting his teeth, Chuck pushed Sarah from his mind, from his thoughts. Seemingly from his world. She had made her choice. She only wanted to be friends. She only wanted to be colleagues. She only wanted to date Shaw. And now he had someone special, too. Right?

If only it were that simple.

As he finished undressing the gorgeous girl laying prone upon his bed, he vowed to forget about "what could have beens" and start dwelling on "what may bes". Brushing his lips against her warm, moist mouth, he allowed his hand to drift down her taut stomach to the velvety heat between her legs. He allowed his fingers to dart into her slick, wet folds, relishing the sounds that reverberated from her throat. He allowed her to push him back against his bed and trail her lips down his groin until she wrapped her mouth around his aching cock, swirling her tongue around its hardened length until he urged her to stop. And he allowed himself to push inside of her, thrusting eagerly, hungrily until she was digging her fingernails into his back and crying out his name.

He tried to pretend that he didn't almost slip and call her someone else. He tried to pretend that a pair of bright blue eyes didn't constantly plague his thoughts. And he tried to pretend that he wasn't still in love with another woman.

It was only later, after she was gone and Sarah had grown closer to Shaw, that he realized his mistake.

~*~

He had realized his mistake. He had discovered his downfall. Even after everything he had been through, even after all the women he had cared about, there was only one who truly held his heart. There was only one who truly held the key to his future. There was only one who he truly wanted to be with.

The problem was, he had already lost her. But then, he supposed he couldn't really lose what had never truly been his.

His face a picture of guarded sorrow, he stared out at the darkening Parisian landscape, drinking in the lights of the Eiffel Tower even as he considered what had happened earlier that day. Even as he reflected on the moment he realized Sarah Walker didn't love him. Even as he remembered the way it had felt when she'd refused to answer his simple, powerful question.

_Sarah, do you love me?_

He had known in that instant, in the moment when she'd dropped her gaze to the ground and remained silent and unmoving, that his dreams were moot, his fantasies unfounded. As much as he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Sarah, as much as he wanted to dedicate his future to the love of his life, she didn't want the same thing. She probably never had.

Sighing heavily, Chuck pushed away from the railing of his balcony and trudged back into his hotel room, his mind a jumble of heady thoughts. Perhaps it was for this reason that he almost missed the knock on his door. Perhaps it was for this reason that it took him a moment to register the sound, to blink away his haze of feelings and head robotically toward the noise. Perhaps it was for this reason that he stared at his guest in dumbfounded awe until she finally spoke.

"Hi," she said softly. It wasn't much; it really wasn't anything at all. But the sound of her voice suddenly broke him from his stupor, causing his pulse to race and his heart to pound.

"Hi," he replied, his eyes narrowing in confusion. Sarah was here. Sarah was in Paris. Sarah was standing at the threshold to his room. Sarah had flown all the way from Burbank to be with him. Or had she? Could he really believe that? Could he really believe that she had come all this way, that she had traveled all this distance, simply to see him? "What are you doing here, Sarah?" he asked abruptly, a thin crease appearing between his brows.

Sighing audibly, her gaze fell to the ground. "I should have said something before, Chuck," she began, her forehead crinkling as she considered her words. "I'm just not used to answering that kind of question. Vulnerability has never really been very easy for me. I've never been very good with feelings."

As she spoke, the emotions peeked out from beneath the shadows coalescing within her eyes, guarded yet altogether real. He felt his defenses slowly begin to waver, even as he struggled to maintain his guard. He had been through too much; he had experienced too many painful refusals to immediately give in. Even if he wanted to; even if he longed to believe her. There had been too many uncertainties in their relationship, too many ambiguities, and he wasn't ready to let go yet. "It was a pretty simple question, Sarah," he murmured, staring at the wall behind her. "Why couldn't you answer it?"

Inhaling deeply, Sarah ran a hand through her long blonde hair. "I know," she said. She bit her lower lip, and he watched from the corner of his eye as the emotions once again struggled openly upon her face. The fear, the anxiety, the panic. They all wafted across her features, muted but apparent. Diminished but absolute.

He waited for her to mutter an excuse and run away. He waited for her to close down and stop. But even in the midst of it all, her struggle ceased. And suddenly, she stood before him more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her before. "I've never been in love," she admitted, her tone gentle and hushed. It was almost as if she was confessing some unknown secret, some covert detail of her past. It caused him to blink and regard her anew, his gaze locking with her own vulnerable stare. "I've cared about other people. I've even believed that I was in love. But," she elaborated, swallowing gently as the fear intensified within her brilliant blue eyes, "None of that really compares to how I feel about you, Chuck."

It was more than she'd ever divulged, and he found himself drinking it all in. Unable to talk, unable to move, he simply waited silently as she continued her speech. "I'm sorry, Chuck," she stated, wrapping her arms securely around her chest. "I know I haven't been there for you lately. I pushed you away when you needed me the most."

"Why?" he whispered.

"Because I was afraid." Her eyes widened in surprise when the words left her mouth, and it took her a moment to clarify. "I was afraid I was going to lose you," she confessed, almost as if she was hearing the words for the very first time. Almost as if she was understanding feelings she had never before understood.

"But why, Sarah?" he demanded again, stepping inadvertently toward her. He was so close now that they were only inches apart, and he could feel the heat radiating off her body. Even so, he held his ground. If there was any chance of this working, if there was any possibility that they could traverse this hurdle, then they had to talk. They had to communicate. They had to understand. _He _had to understand. "Don't you realize that you could never lose me?" he prodded, a shadow of vulnerability wafting across his own face. "I'm always going to be that guy, Sarah. I'm always going to be that guy who can't take the shot. I'm always going to be that guy who would rather talk about his feelings than scale a wall. I'm always going to be that guy who puts his family first even if it means never getting a break."

He paused, knowing there was more he wanted to say, but suddenly afraid to say it. Knowing there was more he wanted to confess, but suddenly unsure if he could do it. He tried to stop, he tried to resurrect his guard. He tried to hide behind a mask. But even as he fought to hold back the words, even as he tried to stop talking, the sentiment escaped his lips without another thought. "I'm always going to be that guy who fell in love with you the first day he met you."

"I know," she acknowledged, her smile turning shaky as her eyes began to glisten. "And I'm always going to be the girl who fell in love with that guy."

Chuck's heart skipped a beat, and the rest of his guarded façade began to melt away. "Why didn't you say so before?" he queried.

"Because I was afraid," was her simple response.

It was the second time Sarah Walker had confessed to being afraid; the second time she'd allowed her vulnerability to shine through, and it meant more to him than he could say. "Are you still afraid?" he asked, taking another step closer.

"Not anymore," she whispered, gazing determinedly into his eyes.

"Are you still going to push me away?" he queried, raising a hand to cup her cheek. He knew he was asking a lot of questions, but he had to know. He had to erase all doubts that this was real. He had to eradicate all disbelief that she was really his.

"No," she murmured, leaning into his touch. "I need this, Chuck. I . . . need you."

A jolt of electricity coursed through his wrist at her movement, and a loving hue flickered through his gaze. "Really?" he questioned, rubbing her cheekbone with his thumb.

"Really," she replied. And then she stepped into the room and pulled him into her arms, the door swinging shut behind her. Pushing her smooth, lush mouth against his eager lips, she tangled her fingers in his hair and pressed her body flush against his own. "I'm not going anywhere," she breathed into the kiss.

It was all he needed to hear. It was all he needed to know. Smiling into her embrace, he led her to the bed as they slowly divested each other of their clothing. And even though he knew they had more to say, and even though he understood they had more to divulge, he couldn't stop now. He couldn't stop himself from touching her, from loving her, from feeling her tremble underneath his hands. He had waited too long; he had wanted this too much. He had spent too much time pretending like she wasn't his. _They_ had spent too much time pretending like this wasn't real.

And when they were fully naked, and he was brushing feather light kisses along her abdomen, and she was running her fingernails against his scalp and down his back, he began to realize that maybe he hadn't made a mistake after all. And when he moved lower still, spreading her apart so that he could taste her slick, hot flesh, relishing the taste of her even as she moaned and arched toward his touch, he began to realize that maybe it had all been worth it just to get to this moment. And when she flipped him over and reciprocated, wrapping her mouth around his cock and her nimble hand around the base of his shaft, he began to realize that he had never felt this way before. Sure, he'd been with other women. Sure, there had been other times. But none of those women, and none of those experiences, made him feel like he did when he was with Sarah Walker.

So when he finally plunged into her tight, warm recesses, when he finally began to pump into her smooth, wet core, he began to understand that this was what he had been waiting for. And when she met him stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust, whimpering and breathing his name, he began to understand that he'd finally gotten everything he'd always wanted. The life, the love, the girl. And when she convulsed around him and tipped her head back upon the pillow, her blonde hair flowing around her shoulders like nothing he'd ever seen before, he could only stare at her in awe as he spilled himself within her depths.

Holding her tightly within his arms, he placed a kiss upon her cheek and breathed in her scent, knowing that he'd finally come home.

**Fin.**


End file.
